Free Bebe by Darla Phelps Page A

imagine a little thing like you doing anything to warrant something like this.” Turning her around, he lowered himself to one knee to caress the surface of her mottled buttocks. When he nudged her shoulders, she tried to limp away from him.
    “No, no.” He caught her arm and pulled her back into place facing the tub. “Bend over.”
    She tried to turn and face him.
    “No,” he said again, striving for patience. He took hold of her arm and her far shoulder and gradually applied pressure until she bent, whimpering once again as she lay her hands upon the lip of the tub.
    “Stay,” he told her, releasing her one hand at a time until he was sure she wasn’t going to straight immediately upright again. Kneeling behind her, he dug through his medical kit. He found a small vial of ulali oil tucked underneath a roll of bandages in the very bottom. As he dug it out, he winced slightly and looked at her again. “You’re going to have to trust me. This won’t feel good going on, but it will heal those bruises faster than if we let time take its course.”
    Her fingers gripped the edge of the tub so tightly that her knuckles whitened. Considering the vulnerability of her pose, he supposed she had a good reason to be concerned. She never said a word, however, and she didn’t move, not even when he uncorked the vial of oil. She twisted back her head to stare at the vial and then quickly turned her face away. She stared into the tub again, her buttocks clenching and her breasts heaving as her breaths came faster, becoming shallow and faintly panicked.
    “Yeah, I know,” he gave the slope of her back a comforting pat before donning a pair of protective gloves. “It’s scary stuff. It’s hard to believe, but some guys actually like how this stuff heats up and will use it while they...” He made a pumping gesture with one hand down near his hips. Her eyes remained firmly fixed on the bottom of the tub.
    “Do you understand anything I’m saying?” he finally asked. He tapped her on the shoulder when she refused to look at him. “Nod your head if you understand me. Can you nod your head?”
    She stared at him, pale, her knees trembling a little as she remained tensely bent into position over the side of the tub.
    “No, huh?” Oh well. He could still probably talk enough for the both of them. “Brace yourself. It’s going to burn like fire for about five minutes, but then it’ll feel pretty darn good the rest of the night. By morning, most of these bruises will be gone. I’d use the stuff on your feet, except it would make the outside heal faster than the inside, and if the interior festers and then I’d have to cut them open again. Trust me, that wouldn’t feel good either.”
    He let a sparse dribble fall from the vial onto her back and, as softly as he could, rubbed it into the bruised weals. He knew the precise moment when the oil began to absorb and heat because that’s when she sucked a sharp breath in through her nose. Her muscles stiffened and, pain or not, she came right up onto her tiptoes. Her gasp became a high-pitched whine when he poured a more liberal dose directly onto her buttocks. He set the vial aside to catch her hips, holding her steady with one hand while he rubbed the oil over every inch of bruise-marked flesh.
    “Liquid fire,” he reminded when she tried to push herself up. Her hips twisted towards him, as if she thought tucking up against him might make it harder for him to reach her bottom and somehow alleviate the pain. He locked his arm around her waist, trying to keep her steady. “I know, I know. It hurts. Hold still.”
    But she didn’t hold still. Her wiggles grew more frantic still as the fire in her flanks intensified. Her stance finally broke, and he barely caught her arm before she lurched forward, scrambling into the tub just to get away from the heat and from him.
    She burst into tears when Tral dragged her right back out again. Standing, he hooked his arm around her waist